


Wing Clipping

by Cantatrice18



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
Genre: Gen, Major Character Injury, Mild torture, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: Captured by Barron and his cohorts, Miss Peregrine must submit to their demands or risk the lives of her children. One demand, though, surprises even her.Explains Miss Peregrine's injuries when Jake finds her in Blackpool.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the movie alone. I have not yet read the books, but I found it odd in the film how Miss Peregrine is mentioned as being injured but we never find out how.

The cage stood in the center of a ring of watchers, the metal grills of the skylights casting prison-bar shadows in the red light of dusk. Each silent observer was unique, yet they shared the same white eyes as they stared at the captive falcon. The room hummed with anticipation. Finally one dark-skinned man stepped forward, a ring of keys in his hand. Opening the cage door, he reached inside as though to grasp the bird roughly, but stopped, a cruel smile twisting his features. Extending his index finger, he pressed the side of it gently against the bird’s stomach. “Up you get, now,” the man said with false sweetness. 

The bird glared at him with one beady eye before reluctantly stepping forward onto the man’s outstretched hand. There were titters among the watchers as the man withdrew the bird from the cage, but the man ignored them, his greedy gaze fixed upon the falcon as he stroked the bird’s back and wings. “Back to your proper self, then,” he commanded, once the circle had quieted once more.

The bird leapt upwards and extended its wings, making a single loop around the watchers before turning in midair and transforming into a slim, dark-haired woman in her mid-30’s. The man took a quick step forward, catching the woman around the waist before she even hit the ground. Caught off balance, the woman staggered slightly, and the man laughed. “Good of you to join us, Miss Peregrine,” he remarked jovially.

The woman glared at him with the same ferocity she’d mustered as a bird. “Barron, I have no need for your showmanship. You have me here. I shall not fight you, so long as my children are left alone.”

“Your children?” Barron’s face assumed an expression of deep sadness. “I’m afraid there’s little chance you have any children left. Hollows are like that, you know.”

Miss Peregrine flinched, but stood her ground, resisting the pull of Barron’s arms. “If any harm has come to them, then our deal is off. I will do everything in my power to escape you and destroy you.”

Barron laughed again, pulling her up against his body. “I have predicted your ire, my dear Miss Peregrine, and am prepared to foil any attempt at escape. After all, what can a bird do without her wings?”

He grasped the woman’s wrists and twisted them up behind her back. At that moment there was a loud disturbance in the far corner of the room. Screeching could be heard, and the beating of wings against bars. Barron jerked his head as a sort of silent command, and the watchers split to either side, revealing a large cage with half a dozen other birds trapped inside. “As you can see, Miss Peregrine, you are not alone. Your fellow Ymbrynes have been waiting patiently for your arrival. As have we all, of course.” He gestured to the white-eyed company surrounding them. “The others are mere energy sources for our experiment. But you, Miss Peregrine.” His free hand moved slowly to caress her ribs, her waist, her hips. “You are the key to everything. The youngest and the strongest Ymbryne of all. What would our experiment be without you?”

The woman shuddered. “Coward,” she spat at the man holding her. “All of you,” she said, looking at the watchers. “Hunting down innocent children for your own personal gain. Trapping my kind like we’re animals.”

“But you are animals!” Barron exclaimed, voice full of devilish glee. “And what lovely animals too. Now,” he said, leaning close to her ear and whispering to her alone. “Let’s make sure you won’t leave our company prematurely.”

Grasping her by the neck, he forced her to the ground. A pair of wights leapt forward, one sitting on her ankles, the other taking charge of her wrists. Barron pressed a knee into the small of her back, one hand tenderly stroking her hair while the other hand shifted and writhed until it became a short, lethally sharp curved blade. “Time to get a better look at you.”

He ran the blade down the length of her spine, slicing through the midnight blue fabric of her overjacket and bodice to the bare skin below. The tip of his knife left a thin red line down the pale skin of her back, a line he traced reverently with one finger. Pushing the ruined clothing aside, he rested a hand on her shoulder blade. “Every restless little bird needs their wings clipped now and again, don’t you think?”

Against her will, Miss Peregrine moaned, struggling vainly against the wights who held her. “Let go of me!” she yelled, her voice muffled by the stone of the floor. “Monster!”

Barron raised his blade high, taking aim at the place on her back where wings would attach. “Wait,” a voice called. Barron paused and turned his head to look. An older wight, his face lined with age, moved forward. “If you hurt her, she might not have the strength to power our experiment. We need her whole, or she will be no use to us.”

“But brother,” a female wight countered. “If she succeeds in escaping, she will be of no use anyway.”

The wights began to murmur among themselves. Barron cleared his throat for attention. “Let us compromise,” he said, voice ringing off the bare walls. With one swift motion he plunged his bladed hand downward, burying it in the soft tissue beneath Miss Peregrine’s left shoulder blade. Ignoring the woman’s scream, he turned back to his comrades. “One wing whole, one wing clipped. Just enough to keep her here until we’ve finished with her.”

He stood and the pair of wights followed suit, gazing down at the motionless woman at their feet. Barron nudged Miss Peregrine lightly with his foot. “Back to your feathered form, if you please. Quickly, now. We haven’t got all day.”

Slowly, painfully, Miss Peregrine struggled to her knees and then to her feet. The glare she shot at Barron held so much menace that he nearly took a step backwards. “You will pay for this,” she told him, her voice oddly calm. “All of you will suffer for your crimes.”

With one last contemptuous look, she transformed, assuming her falcon form. Unable to remain airborn, she fell several feet, just managing to right herself before hitting the floor. Transforming his hand back to its original shape, Barron seized the bird roughly and picked her up, walking swiftly to the larger cage and shoving her ignominiously inside. “Rest up, now,” he told her, avarice in his eyes. “You’ll need your strength for later.”

Turning to the wights, he raised his arms. “Now, my friends, let us retire and enjoy a final meal before we begin our experiment.”

The group of them filed out, the wights talking amongst themselves with an air of mingled excitement and apprehension. As they left, the falcon’s sharp eyes roved over each one, memorizing every face and expression. Only when the room was truly empty did the bird turn away, finding a perch in the corner to rest on. With one wing hanging limply at her side, she closed her eyes, shielding herself from the light with her uninjured wing. Barron was right about one thing. She would need her strength, not for their twisted experiment, but for the battle to come. The wights would rue the day they dared capture her. For the sake of her children, she would make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI, actual wing clipping does not mean this. True wing clipping, as done to pet birds, only cuts the ends off the few flight feathers at the tip of each wing, and those feathers have no nerve endings, so the bird is not hurt.


End file.
